Where You're Burning In My Eyes
by thestairwell
Summary: Kurt transfers to Dalton for his senior year, but all that does is change one kind of bully for another. Kurt has never been more lonely, but then, in the wood along Dalton's boundary, he comes across a beautiful boy who promises he'll never be lonely again. Written for Klaine AU Friday - Greek Gods. Woodnymph!Blaine.


_Title is from **Parallel Worlds by Elliot Minor**._

* * *

Kurt closes his car door and then turns to look at the brown brick and white stone and empty windows, and he thinks Dalton is as beautiful and intimidating as the first time he saw it and every time since. But, not for the first time, he has a hard time seeing past the isolation and loneliness of an unfairly gilded prison.

A few of the other boys who he shares classes with nod or wave at him as he shoulders his weekend bag, and even fewer call out to him. He returns each greeting with a regal wave and a tight-lipped, insincere smile. He doesn't stop to talk to anyone; all he wants to do is get back to his room to unpack and reacclimatise to Dalton's atmosphere.

It's always difficult coming back to the boarding school after visiting home, to see his loved ones change their lives to fill his gap while he's stuck almost two hours away in a place with no individuality and no real friends. He had complained to Mercedes and Tina when he'd first started, but all his girls had been able to offer was the same vague advice and useless platitudes as his father, and then they had got caught up in the never-ending drama and Kurt's problems have slowly fallen by the wayside.

"Kurt! Wait up! "

Kurt looks behind him and sees Jeff running up the stairs with a grin on his face. Kurt waits for him and accepts the clap on his shoulder with another toothless smile.

"Congrats to your dad for winning the election! "

"Thanks. "

"He was a write-in candidate, wasn't he? " Kurt barely has time to nod before Jeff barrels on, "You'll want to watch out for Trent – I think he's determined to get an interview for his Politics project. "

"Oh, really?" Kurt asks, and Jeff takes the bait and starts telling Kurt about Trent's project as if he hasn't heard about it already. This is one of Kurt's favourite things about Jeff, his tendency to ramble and fill silences and take over conversations, because it means he himself doesn't have to try so hard; another of his favourite things about the other boy is how he doesn't let Kurt's iciness deter him. It doesn't stop Kurt from spending most of his spare time in the library, but it helps to feel not quite so alone while he's away from his family and friends.

They part outside Kurt's dorm, and Kurt is relieved to find it empty – his room mates are probably hanging out in the senior rec room or one of the common rooms, since it's too cold now to just stand around outside.

For the next week, Kurt finds himself accepting congratulations and fielding questions about his dad's win. It would merely be tedious if it weren't for one of the boy's jealousy and taunting: although congressman is at the higher end of the scale, it isn't the most high-end parental career, of which Sebastian Smythe is more than happy to remind Kurt – repeatedly, loudly, increasingly cruelly, and almost always off-campus so he isn't technically breaking the no-bullying policy.

Since the beginning of the year, when Sebastian decided that Kurt is lesser for attending Dalton on a scholarship and then Kurt got accepted into the Warblers with much more enthusiasm, he's been undermining and verbally attacking Kurt at every opportunity. Kurt always gives as good as he's got, even if he did get sanctioned for it once, because even though the bullies chased him out of McKinley they've never managed to steal his tongue.

* * *

Thanksgiving doesn't come soon enough, in Kurt's opinion. Sebastian has been even nastier than usual, and Kurt thinks the only reason their classmates thinks the sun shines out his ass is because the Smythes are one of the richer families and Sebastian is paying them all off. His charisma is all smarm and he's not even particularly attractive. Yet somehow, he's slowly taking over the Warblers and most of the school.

Kurt needs this extra time with his family and friends to regroup. He organises a meeting with Santana – since she'd been nationally outed and Kurt had spent the weekend with her and Brittany to comfort her – and the two of them make a plan of attack.

It turns out to be a pointless venture. Kurt doesn't get back to school until just before curfew on Sunday, so he isn't prepared when he walks into Warbler practice the next day after school and finds that, over the break, Sebastian has somehow dissolved the council and been appointed captain.

"We barely got through Sectionals, but with me as captain we can get to Nationals and win. I have a vision of the New Warblers. You will all have to reaudition so I can judge how you'll fit," he says, smirking at Kurt with a malicious victorious twinkle in his eye.

Kurt walks out of the choir room.

The Warblers will never win against the New Directions anyway.

* * *

As stuffy and rigid as the Warblers were, Kurt doesn't realise how much he relied on them to keep him sane until he's not one of them any more. He may have just been in the background, and he may not have been able to vent his feelings in song, but it was still singing and still performing. He still sings for himself, of course, sneaking into the auditorium during lunch, but it's not the same. It's not as fulfilling, not as satisfying, not as freeing.

He, somehow, lasts until two weeks after the winter break. Christmas and New Year had been wonderful – he'd been able to forget that he didn't live in Lima any more, that his few sort of friends had practically given up on him, that even Jeff rarely conversed with him since Kurt had quit the Warblers; he'd been able to forget that his grades had never been better because he doesn't have anyone to talk to at Dalton and most of his McKinley friends are too busy to keep in regular contact with him.

The Saturday two weeks after his return to Dalton, Kurt finds out that Sebastian has been spreading lies about him. He's been saying that Kurt was kicked out of the Warblers for passing information on to the New Directions. Kurt only finds out because Nick – Jeff's on-again off-again boyfriend, and one of Kurt's closest friends here, though that's not saying much – has been sniping at Kurt for weeks and Kurt finally snaps.

Kurt can't stay inside – it's too oppressive, too constricting, he's choking on the unfairness and the loneliness and the side-eye glances and the whispers behind his back. He doesn't go back to his room to grab a coat or a scarf or a hat or gloves even though it's barely thirty degrees outside, he can't put himself in an even smaller space even just for a second.

Outside is freezing, the air biting into Kurt's skin and making his eyes water. There's no snow, although there had been just before the semester finished and it's been predicted that there'll be more in a few weeks.

Kurt doesn't notice the cold. He wanders about the school grounds listlessly, barely registering the tears running down his cheeks. He thinks, he must be cursed or doomed to never be happy. He thinks, he ran away from the bullies at McKinley and from Karofsky who terrified him, he gave up his family and his friends and for what? To end up in a worse situation, to end up isolated away from his support while still not escaping bullying, and Sebastian is smarter than all of the other ones put together.

When Kurt starts becoming aware of his surroundings again, when he's not so distraught that the only thing that matters is getting away, the cold is the first thing he notices. He's shivering badly, and the air is stabbing into his skin where the tears left marks. He rubs at his face with his sleeves – thank god he always wears at least three layers in winter – and moves around all his extremities so they won't freeze up.

He becomes aware of scent and sight and sound at the same time. As well as being cold, the air is crisp and fresh, and he's ended up some way into the wood bordering the Dalton grounds so he can smell the evergreen pines which are dotted among the leafless seasonal trees. The landscape, but for him, is completely empty; except he can hear voices, sopranos and basses and everything in between crooning in a nonsensical language, songs interspersed with carefree laughter.

He looks around to confirm that he is alone. The bark of the trees shift as if he's looking at them through a heat wave. He must have finally gone mad, or perhaps he's been outside for too long and is now suffering from severe hypothermia, or perhaps he slipped on some ice and hit his head quite spectacularly.

"Hello?" he calls out. His voice is thin and weak from his crying and the cold, and it cracks on the second syllable. The other voices fall silent, and Kurt doesn't know what to feel.

And then he is suddenly surrounded by people wearing no clothes. Or at least, he thinks they're people; they look like them, two legs, two arms, a head, ten fingers and toes, nothing webbed, no tails or horns or animalistic ears. Some of them, however, have ears which end with a sharp point. Their skin tones range from palest white to darkest brown, just as people, but some of them have skin that is green or yellow or decorated in a pattern of more than one colour, and Kurt knows instinctively that it's natural, as are the greens of some of their hair. They're all looking at him; their gazes are curious, warm, and unsuspicious.

Yes, he must surely have gone mad.

He clears his throat and asks, "Wh-wh-who are you?" and his voice has gained a little strength but it's still affected by the cold and his shivering.

One of the people – it looks like a young male – steps forward and Kurt flinches. The man – boy? - stops, and when Kurt looks up again, he sees curious concern has filtered onto the other's face. His skin is tan and smooth but for the dark hair thinly dusting it; the hair on his head is curly and so dark a brown it's almost black; his eyes are a big and wide, and they shine light brown and green as the light changes.

"We don't mean harm," he says. His voice is low and soothing. Kurt would relax if he weren't so cold. "This is our home. We sing to the trees so they will want to bloom again in Spring; they don't much like Winter." Kurt thinks, only slightly hysterically, that he seems to have stumbled upon a cult of crazy nudist florists. The man tilts his head to examine Kurt more closely. "I don't think you much like Winter either."

"It's c-c-c-cold." And then he repeats, "Who are y-you?"

The man smiles gently, and Kurt flushes. "My name is Blaine. What's yours?"

"Kur—I'mmm Kurt."

Blaine turns slightly to gesture at the people surrounding them. The shadows shift on his hips and thighs, and Kurt flushes darker, keeps his eyes determinedly above Blaine's neck, and hopes no one noticed him looking.

"We are nymphs. Our ancestors lived in Greece, and we came here several generations ago when your human ancestors cut down their trees to make ships."

A different kind of chill creeps through Kurt's insides as he thinks – they're really crazy – or maybe I have actually gone insane – and do they intend to punish me for whatever point Blaine is making? "Wh-why are you t-t-telling me this?" he asks, and Blaine smiles gently at him again and repeats in a murmur, "We don't mean you harm, Kurt."

The other people – nymphs, or whatever; in for a penny, in for a pound – take this as their cue to go back to business. Kurt watches as some of them seem to _melt into_ the trees, though most of them don't, instead making dance circles around the trunks or climbing up the branches or hugging or caressing the trees, and all but Blaine start to sing again. The music is lively and happy, and the sound of it somehow warms Kurt's body until he's no longer cold or shivering at all. They're singing in the other language again – Kurt supposes it's ancient Greek, or maybe the language of the gods.

"Are you warm now?" Blaine suddenly asks, startling Kurt out of his fascinated watching. Blaine has moved closer, sitting cross-legged less than two feet away. Kurt steadfastly keeps his eyes on Blaine's.

"I am," Kurt answers, and his curiosity and puzzlement grows at Blaine's satisfied smile. "How . . . ?"

Blaine waves his hand at the other nymphs. "I like you, so they are making a spell so you don't suffer."

Kurt's eyes widen and his face and neck turn red. Blaine's eyes twinkle happily and his smile grows, but then his expression fades into worry.

"I was . . . watching you, before," Blaine admits, looking bashful, and Kurt freezes. He'd forgotten why he's out here in the first place. "You were crying. Why?"

"I . . ." Kurt struggles to breathe, and to his horror his eyes fill with more tears. Blaine moves in an instant to put his arms around him, and the shock of a handsome, naked man is more than enough to stop Kurt's tears. Blaine strokes Kurt's back comfortingly, not looking away from Kurt's eyes as he waits for Kurt to speak. Once Kurt has control of himself again, he releases a deep breath, clears his throat, and says, "I was bullied, in my old school. It wasn't safe for me so I came here, but . . . but I've had to leave my family and friends behind and . . ." Not even the thought of Blaine's nakedness is enough to stop Kurt crying this time, but at least only a few tears escape. "I don't have any friends here," he says, voice breaking. "They're all so different from me – I'm so different from them, too different – and I'm still bullied."

"You're too beautiful for this much pain," Blaine says quietly, and Kurt sucks in a breath and stares at him with wide eyes. Blaine's expression is sincere and sympathetic. Kurt doesn't know what to do with himself, so he lets Blaine caress his cheek and he closes his eyes when Blaine softly brings their lips together. It only lasts for a moment, and Blaine gives Kurt a smile that brings pink to his cheeks and his own smile so wide it hurts his cheeks.

Blaine takes Kurt's hand and sits pressed so close that Kurt can feel his heat and the shift of his muscle against Kurt's leg, and requests, "Tell me about your family," so Kurt does. He tells Blaine about his mother, how she died when Kurt was so young, admitting he only remembers her through the smell on the dresser and pictures and a few trinkets even though he's never told that to anyone else; he tells Blaine about his father, his unwavering support, his unconditional love, how they looked after each other for years; he tells Blaine about Carole and Finn, how the now-family had a rocky beginning but they're close now. In a quiet voice, he finishes with his fears that they're forgetting about him, altering their lives to fill in the space that he used to occupy so that one day he'll go home and there won't be any room for him.

Blaine doesn't say anything, just kisses him again, a little bit longer and a little bit harder.

"What about your family?" Kurt asks, glancing around at the other nymphs before returning to the smile on Blaine's face.

"They're all my family. I don't think there's enough time to tell you about everyone."

Kurt hums, and at the sound of it, Blaine's eyes glow.

"Who are you closest to?" he asks instead. Blaine looks thoughtful, strokes one thumb absent-mindedly over the inside of Kurt's wrist and the other hand over the clothes of Kurt's stomach. Kurt shivers, and Blaine finally answers, "Wes and David," pointing to a tall, thin man with short black hair and skin a beautiful mix of white and soft yellow, and a taller man with dark brown skin and a shaved head. They are sitting on a tree and dancing with two girls, respectively.

Kurt wants to ask about Blaine's parents. He kisses Blaine instead, cupping his face and opening his mouth ever-so-slightly so that, for a moment, he and Blaine are sharing breath, before they pull apart.

"Do you sing, Kurt?"

Kurt smiles wistfully. "I do." Blaine asks for Kurt to sing. "What do you want me to sing? I don't know any of your songs."

"That doesn't matter." Blaine smiles at him, and the shine in his eyes catches Kurt's breath in his throat. "Sing something for you."

"I don't understand."

"Sing something for you," Blaine repeats, "that you want to share with me."

Is it possible to fall in love so quickly? Even at the height of Kurt's crush on Finn, it never felt like this, so consuming, so warm, so open.

Kurt sucks in his bottom lip to think, but then Blaine moves forward to kiss him, pulling Kurt's lip into his own mouth. He flicks his tongue against it and Kurt gasps, his head spinning even as he licks against Blaine's top lip. They pull apart long enough for Kurt to murmur, "I can't think while you're kissing me," for Blaine to plead, "Please keep kissing me," and then they press their lips together again, and Kurt licks hesitantly over Blaine's lips until Blaine opens his mouth to twist their tongues together.

They pull apart when Kurt runs out of breath. His hand skims Blaine's bare shoulders as he pulls it back to his own body and links their hands together. Blaine's cheeks are flushed and his eyes sparkling and his lips pink and swollen and smiling, and Kurt hopes he wears kisses just as well.

"Do you have a song yet?" Blaine asks, his voice a little deeper than before. Kurt smiles.

_Don't wanna see the stars  
__Don't wanna see the moon  
__Don't wanna see the sun  
__That rises up too soon  
__Don't wanna see the day  
__Don't wanna see the night  
__Oh, the afternoon, it feels about right_

Kurt is distantly aware of the other nymphs providing harmonies in that other language, making it sound nothing like the original song but somehow even more beautiful, but most of his attention is on Blaine, his eyes wide and pure joy and curiously wet. Kurt's own eyes slip closed as he moves into the chorus, forcing his voice louder and stronger and god, he's missed having someone who _wants_ to listen to him.

_I am a spaceman flying high  
__I am the astronaut in the sky  
__Don't worry, I'm okay now_

The harmonies change to fit, and Kurt is impressed at how easily and quickly they manage to match him.

_I am the light in the dark  
__I am the match  
__I am the spark  
__Don't worry, I'm okay now_

He takes a breath, opens his eyes to meet Blaine's. He reaches up to brush the tear out the corner of Blaine's eye and leaves his palm resting on his cheek, skipping to the end.

_Just dry your tears and I'll be there  
__Don't leave for anger all this pain  
__Don't worry, I'm okay  
__I'm okay now_

Kurt leans forward to brush his lips against Blaine's as the nymphs' song changes to something that makes Kurt's heart expand in his chest and the skin all over his body tingle.

"Kurt," Blaine breathes against his lips. "Kurt."

"Will you sing for me now?" he asks. Blaine rests his forehead against Kurt's and closes his eyes, but Kurt keeps his open, even though it makes him go cross-eyed, looking at the shadow of his lashes.

His song starts quietly, so quietly Kurt can barely hear it, but he feels the unknown words race around his veins and thrum through his body until he's vibrating with it. Gradually, Blaine sings louder, and the other nymphs change their song, their voices one but for Blaine who is clear above them. Kurt doesn't understand the words, doesn't understand how he's reacting. All he can do is pick up on the nuances of sound, of the way it starts nostalgic, shifts to aching melancholy, to despair that leaves Kurt's breath short and his heart pumping and his eyes watering. He listens as Blaine's voice weaves in and out of the melody, hiding in the sound of the others, and Kurt can feel the song coming to an end when Blaine's voice goes low and soft, and it feels like a mother's caress, safe and loved, and then after a beat of silence, the other nymphs move on to something subdued but happy, and Kurt can only choke out, "_Blaine_," and press their lips and their bodies together.

He abruptly becomes aware again that Blaine is naked. He is embarrassed by it, still, but more of him wants to feel Blaine's skin against his own. Blaine grabs at Kurt's waist, bunching his clothes, but Kurt just doesn't _care_. Their tongues curl around each other, Kurt tangles a hand in Blaine's hair which makes both of them moan. He can feel both of them growing hard, and he hates that he's clearing clothing.

When he pulls away, Blaine chases after him, so Kurt mutters against his lips, gClothes, h and then they both work to take them off.

"Why do you wear so much?" Blaine pants heavily into Kurt's neck.

"I used to like layers," Kurt replies, and pulls Blaine up into another kiss before pulling only just far enough away to take off his last two layers, leaving him in his jeans and underwear.

They kiss again, for a few moments, deep but gentle, and Kurt's grateful for the time to wrap his head around the fact that, soon, he will be naked, even if his erection is painfully straining in his jeans. He runs his hands over Blaine's shoulders, his back, his waist, feeling the smooth, warm skin. There's a spot under Blaine's ribs that make him whimper every time Kurt brushes against it, and that's what gives Kurt the courage the remove the last of his clothing. He kicks it ungracefully away, but Blaine doesn't seem to notice, drinking Kurt's body in. He doesn't blush, and he almost wants to cover himself back up, but Blaine's eyes and hands are so reverent when they touch him, sweeping across his chest, down his arms, up his legs, that Kurt really can't bring himself to care.

Blaine lies down, not quite on top of Kurt, but not quite beside him either. He holds Kurt's cheek and draws a kiss out, and then moves across Kurt's jaw and down his neck and across his shoulders and down his chest. "Kurt," he whispers into Kurt's skin, his voice rough like tree bark, "I have never seen any mortal as beautiful as you. You are a son of Aphrodite."

Kurt whimpers in response, gripping at Blaine's shoulders as he trails kisses and nibbles and nuzzles Kurt's hipbones, and he groans when Blaine ignores his erection to move back up Kurt's body. "Blaine, p-please."

Blaine hovers over Kurt's body, and finally, _finally_, moves his hips and his dick against Kurt's. One of Kurt's legs falls to the ground but the other wraps around Blaine's hips, and Blaine groans against Kurt's mouth, and again when Kurt pushes up. Every inch of Kurt feels like he's on fire, his skin burns and it burns the most where he's touching Blaine, but it's not enough. He reaches down to wrap a hand around them, and Blaine moans, but his movements are awkward until Blaine reaches down as well and links their fingers together. They figure out a rhythm, and it matches the song of the other nymphs, and Kurt can't bring himself to feel embarrassed that they can all see this, see _him_, because he's so, so close.

Blaine bites at Kurt's collar bone and Kurt cries out, and then whimpers _Blaine_ and _ah, ah_ and letters strung together into words that don't exist or make sense, and his back arches as he comes. He feels Blaine against his hip, hears Blaine cry out Kurt's name as he comes too, and opens his eyes when Blaine strokes his face. The nymph is lying beside him now, and Kurt lazily rolls onto his side to look at him.

"Hi," Kurt whispers, and then feels a little silly. Blaine smiles warmly and leans forward into a kiss.

"Kurt?" Blaine whispers against his lips. Kurt makes a noise of acknowledgement. "Will you stay with me?"

Kurt opens his eyes. Blaine's face is only a few inches away, but Kurt can see clearly how his eyebrows are drawn together and worry shines in his eyes. A blush is fading quickly from his cheeks and his lips are stained and swollen. Kurt can't think of a single reason not to stay.

"Of course," he says, and Blaine beams so brightly it almost blinds Kurt. They kiss again, Blaine rolling onto his back so Kurt has to rest a hand on his chest for balance.

"You'll never be alone again," Blaine whispers, "I promise."

They clean themselves off with a bowl of water one of the other nymphs gives them – and Kurt does blush now, and Blaine laughs joyously and kisses him again – and then Kurt is pulled into a dance, and he joins in the songs with one he knows which fits what the nymphs are singing, and every single time Blaine looks at him with eyes shining like stars.

When the nymphs have finished singing to the trees, they move on. Spring is still some time away, and there are lots of trees in this wood that need singing to. Blaine never lets go of Kurt's hand, even when they're singing and dancing with the others, and Kurt never looks back.

**The End.**

* * *

_Song is** Spark**** by Amy**_** McDonald**_._

_Wow, okay, this got a lot longer than I intended it to. Also, this is my first time writing smut, so how'd I do? :S (Blaine is a wood nymph, by the way. So we'll pretend that nymphs can be male as well as female because, mythologically speaking, they're just female. Shh. ;) )_

_HERE'S SOME THINGS YOU MAY HAVE MISSED:_  
_Blaine saying 'we don't mean harm' is a kind of parallel to the 'we're not gonna beat you up for spying';_  
_the last paragraph or so kind of plays out bits of 'Teenage Dream';_  
_Kurt rolling onto his side and looking at Blaine is basically the position they were in in 'The First Time', but with fewer clothes and more come._


End file.
